


Forget Me Not

by CelticKnot



Series: Mass Effect Fictober 2019 [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Fictober 2019, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, MEFFictober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 16:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticKnot/pseuds/CelticKnot
Summary: MEFFictober Prompt: sugar skulls. James and Shepard have a heart-to-heart about death and mourning.





	Forget Me Not

“James? You wanted to see me?” Shepard looked around in surprise. “What’s all this?”

The little alcove Vega had claimed for himself in the  _ Normandy’s  _ shuttle bay, normally spartan and gray as befitted a workspace on a war vessel, was today a riot of color. Strings of paper banners decorated the walls, what looked like flower petals strewed the floor, and off to one side, a table was set up with candles, photographs, and little, brightly painted skulls.

“It’s  _ el Día de los Muertos,”  _ said Vega. “I was setting up my  _ ofrenda  _ to honor the people we’d lost, and… well, I was wondering if you wanted this.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably as he held out his hand. “Little ones like this are supposed to represent  _ los hijos,  _ but the ingredients are kind of hard to come by these days. Esteban really went above and beyond getting me as much as he did.”

He handed her another skull, this one decorated with stylized markings in green and black. Shepard knew who it represented even before she saw the name inscribed on it, and her breath caught in her throat. “Wh… what is it?”

_ “Una calavera de azúcar— _ a sugar skull,” he said. “It’s a way to honor the dead who were close to us. I made one for Thane, but I didn’t actually know him, so…” He shrugged. “I know he was important to you.”

Tears pricked at Shepard’s eyes. She was still reeling from Thane’s death, and this sweet gesture of comfort threatened to tear down her stoic war face to reveal the quivering mess she felt inside. “I… thank you, James,” she stammered, her voice coming out barely more than a whisper. She cleared her throat and asked a little more steadily, “What do I do with it? Am I supposed to eat it?” The thought twisted her stomach.

“No!” Vega waved his hands. “You don’t eat it. I thought you might want to set up a little  _ ofrenda  _ of your own. Put it on a table with a picture and a little bit of something he liked to eat or drink, and just… remember him.”

The words landed heavily on her chest like a blow, crushing the breath from her lungs with what might have been grief or anger, or both. She shook her head and tried to hand the skull back to him. “I don’t need this to remember him,” she ground out.

“No offense, Lola, but I think you do.” Vega reached out and closed Shepard’s fingers gently around the skull. “All you’re thinkin’ about right now is how he died. And I get it, believe me. I want to take out the bastard who did it as bad as you do. Okay, maybe not quite as bad as you do,” he amended at her raised eyebrow, “but you know what I mean. Point is,  _ el Día de los Muertos  _ isn’t about mourning their deaths; it’s about celebrating their lives. You know, remembering the good stuff.”

“Hmm.” Shepard studied the fist-sized skull in her hand. “When you put it that way… it sounds like something he would have liked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, James,” she said. “You’re a really wonderful friend.”

“Hey, you know I got you.”

* * *

A little later, Shepard set the skull, a photograph, and a steaming mug of Thane’s favorite tea on the table in the Life Support bay. She sat down in what had once been her usual chair, her back to the now-shuttered window that looked out onto the drive core, and closed her eyes.

She reached out across the table, and could almost feel his hands closing over hers with their reassuring warmth. She remembered the way his eyes looked when the light caught them just right, and she could see the emerald irises behind their veil of black. She could almost hear the low rumble of his voice when he would whisper  _ “Siha”  _ in her ear, could feel his breath brushing along her skin like a sigh, or a prayer.

And for a while, she allowed herself to explore those memories, to savor every detail. They wrapped around her like a blanket, bringing her a measure of comfort and peace she hadn’t thought possible.

The pain was still there. It still gnawed at her insides and clouded her brain. But maybe James had been right—she had allowed it to overwhelm her, to distract her, to drown out the memories Thane would have wanted her to hold on to. The ones from which she could draw strength.

So she made a silent promise. A vow to fight on in his name, and to never forget him again.


End file.
